129 Quotes by John Gardner

  • Author John Gardner
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    Talking, talking, spinning a spell, pale skin of words that closes me in like a coffin. Not in a language that anyone any longer understands. Rushing, degenerate mutter of noises I send out before me wherever I creep, like a dragon burning his way through vines and fog.

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  • Author John Gardner
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    I am mad with joy. – At least I think it’s joy. Strangers have come, and it’s a whole new game. I kiss the ice on the frozen creeks, I press my ear to it, honoring the water that rattles below, for by water they came: the icebergs parted as if gently pushed back by enormous hands, and the ship sailed through, sea-eager, foamy-necked, white sails, riding the swan-road, flying like a bird! O happy Grendel! Fifteen glorious heroes, proud in their battle dress, fat as cows!

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  • Author John Gardner
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    Go ahead, scoff, he said, petulant. Except in the life of a hero, the whole world’s meaningless. The hero sees values beyond what’s possible. That’s the nature of a hero. It kills him, of course, ultimately. But it makes the whole struggle of humanity worthwhile.

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  • Author John Gardner
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    But she was beautiful and she surrendered herself with the dignity of a sacrificial virgin. My chest was full of pain, my eyes smarted, and I was afraid – O monstrous trick against reason – I was afraid I was about to sob. I wanted to smash things, bring down the night with my howl of rage. But I kept still. She was beautiful, as innocent as dawn on winter hills. She tore me apart as once the Shaper’s song had done.

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  • Author John Gardner
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    All systems are evil. All governments are evil. Not just a trifle evil. Monstrously evil.

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  • Author John Gardner
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    I was younger then. Still playing cat and mouse with the universe.

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  • Author John Gardner
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    Ultimate wisdom, I have come to perceive, lies in the perception that the solemnity and the grandeur of the universe rise through the slow process of unification in which the diversities of existence are utilized, and nothing, nothing is lost.

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  • Author John Gardner
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    Thus I fled, ridiculous hairy creature torn apart by poetry.

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